


May Day

by MayGlenn



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Le Morte d'Arthur - Thomas Malory
Genre: Aunt Nephew Feels, Gen, Magic, Politics According to a Kid, Protective Siblings, Sibling Love, Superpowers, Swimming, The Orkney Gang, Uncle Nephew Feels, sibling feels, solar powers, wee!Gawain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Gawain discovers his unusual solar-fueled powers on one of the most infamous days in Arthurian history. Written for Tumblr user iguanaco for Round One of the Arthurian Gift Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May Day

_**CHAPTER XXVII. How all the children were sent for that were born on May-day, and how Mordred was saved.** _

_THEN King Arthur let send for all the children born on May-day, begotten of lords and born of ladies; for Merlin told King Arthur that he that should destroy him should be born on May-day, wherefore he sent for them all, upon pain of death; and so there were found many lords’ sons, and all were sent unto the king, and so was Mordred sent by King Lot’s wife, and all were put in a ship to the sea, and some were four weeks old, and some less. And so by fortune the ship drave unto a castle, and was all to-riven, and destroyed the most part, save that Mordred was cast up, and a good man found him, and nourished him till he was fourteen year old, and then he brought him to the court, as it rehearseth afterward, toward the end of the Death of Arthur. So many lords and barons of this realm were displeased, for their children were so lost, and many put the wite on Merlin more than on Arthur; so what for dread and for love, they held their peace. But when the messenger came to King Rience, then was he wood out of measure, and purveyed him for a great host, as it rehearseth after in the book of Balin le Savage, that followeth next after, how by adventure Balin gat the sword._

_Explicit liber primus._

— _Sir Thomas Malory, Le Morte D’Arthur_

…

It was the first day of summer.

Gawain was still a squire, but he was going to be made a knight soon. He was particularly happy today, because his family had come to visit, the whole family: Mum, Dad, Herry, Aggy, and Gary and wee Mordred, whom he’d not met yet. They had a picnic out of doors with Uncle Arthur and Auntie Gwen. Even Auntie M was there—she didn’t often come to family reunions, probably because she and Mum always fought. To be fair, Mum fought with everyone. Herry told him that Mum and Dad didn’t even sleep in the same bed anymore, and since Gawain was just beginning to learn enough about where babies came from that made Mordred’s arrival a little odd, but he didn’t bother Herry with it. Instead—

“Hey, let’s go down to the beach!” Gawain suggested.

“Yeah!” Gaheris agreed.

Knowing it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, the two boys took off at a run without telling anyone where they were going, red tangles flying behind them.

They stripped to their breeches, resting their clothes on a warm rock (it was still cloudy, and still morning, and though they sky threatened darkly in the distance, it was pleasant now), and splashed into the waves.

“Is it fun being a squire?” Herry asked excitedly, paddling hard to stay afloat.

Gawain laughed. “Sometimes. It’s a lot of taking care of horses and sharpening swords. Sometimes I get to practice, though. And you learn a lot from watching. Like Kay, stay away from him, he’s mean. But Bedivere’s nice.” Gawain swam over to his brother and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “And the ladies at court!—” Gawain whistled appreciatively, and the boys laughed. “Yeah. They’re totally into me. Lady Bertilak says she wants to do wicked things to me. Why, I almost missed training a few times because I was up all night keeping them company.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, though the night to which he had been referring was sadly innocent in the scheme of things. The ladies had giggled something about ‘waiting until he’s legal’ that Gawain didn’t quite understand, but they seemed to appreciate his company well enough.

Herry looked impressed. “Wow! Imagine what it’ll be like when you’re a knight! Christ, Gawain, I can’t wait ‘til I’m a squire!”

“What’d Dad say? Next year, maybe?”

Herry began to flounder, so Gawain grabbed him under the arm. “Yeah, maybe,” he spluttered. “He says I have to learn my letters and stuff better first. But that’s  _boring_!”

Gawain snorted. “Tell me about it. But Dad’s right. Can’t get far without letters. And girls don’t like dumb guys. They like poetry—I think.” Most of them seemed primarily to like his red hair and freckles. “We can practice some if you want, tonight. I can’t wait til you join me, Herry!”

“Hey, Gawain—what’s that?”

Gawain turned to see what Herry was pointing at.

It was suddenly, somehow, cloudy, especially further away from shore, and the wind changed. At first Gawain saw nothing, and then something sharp and black and very tiny appeared on the horizon, fairly far out in the water. Gawain shrugged. It didn’t look like a sea monster (which was simultaneously a relief and a disappointment), but if it was a boat, there was no one at the helm, and no oars.

“Dunno,” he said, paddling closer to the rocks to climb up and get a closer look, since he was unwilling to admit that he was now tired from swimming.

Okay, that was definitely a boat.

With no oars and no one at the helm.

“It’s a boat,” he explained to his younger brother, “but—”

“Gawain, do you hear that?”

Gawain heard it. He had hoped it was gulls. The boys listened a few more seconds before together they exclaimed—

“Children!”

Pulling his brother up out of the water as the waves became choppy, Gawain stretched up to see that—yes—the boat was a writhing mass of—

“What the hell are  _babies_  doing in a boat?!” he demanded.

“What are we going to do, Gawain? Go get help?” Herry asked.

Gawain peered out at the boat. “No, there’s no time: the current’s pulling it out.” It did not escape him that this meant if he dove into the water the current would pull  _him_  out to sea as well, and for all he was part-fish (according to Mum), he wasn’t  _that_  strong of a swimmer.

“Stay here,” he told Gaheris, but just before he splashed back into the ocean and water closed over his head, he heard a distinct “Bugger that!” from his brother, and a smaller splash followed his.

Gawain didn’t waste breath telling his brother to go back, but he shot him a glare as the boys swam after the boat. It was relatively easy going, actually, in spite of the waves crashing over their heads—too easy, of course, for the ocean was drawing them further and further from the shore. When they reached the boat and peered inside, Gaheris cried out.

“Don’t get too excited, Herry. It’s not over yet, we’ve still—”

But Gaheris’ cry was not one of triumph: “Holy shit! Mordred!”

There was in fact one dark-haired boy wrapped in the burgundy cloth of their house, and for all Gawain had only known his youngest brother for a day, he agreed that this was none other than he. There were in fact seven babies in all, screaming and crying and ocean-soaked in their swaddling clothes. All were man-children, and all appeared to be around the same age, as if they had been born within the past month—Gawain only knew because he had four little brothers and he knew very much what babies looked like at different ages. That Mordred was among them was a horrible shock. Had he been stolen? Was the rest of the family all right? What sort of mad villain would put babies out in a boat like this: did they hope they would be drowned? But there wasn’t time for anger—he’d find the fiends later and—and—well, he’d do something to them.  _No one_  could hurt one of his brothers and expect to get away with it!

As a dangerous wave crashed over them, nearly knocking Gaheris away, Gawain wondered if they would all not be drowned. “Get in the boat!” Gawain shouted over wailing wind and children, and without waiting for a reply, grabbed his younger brother and shoved him bodily over the side and into the small boat.

“Hey!” Gaheris cried, but—

“Look after the babes!” Gawain ordered, because the boat was filling with water and the children were in disarray and screaming, jostled about in the boat as they were. “I’ll pull us to—” he didn’t finish as another wave sent a shock of cold seawater into his mouth. It was fine a minute ago, when the sun was out, but it was so cold with the sun hidden, and the sea was so violent, Gawain wasn’t sure how he’d keep them all afloat, much less get them to safety.

“Gawain! The rocks!”

“I know!” Gawain shouted, grabbing the tug line and diving under the water to pull the boat along. He swam sideways, parallel to the shore, to try to escape the current, but the shore got further and further away, and the rocks bigger and sharper.

They were floating dangerously between two large outcroppings, two huge, looming, sharp rocks. Gawain was cold, and tired, and the only thing that kept his screaming muscles going (though to no avail) was the thought of the ship driving itself against the rocks, all to-riven, the children scattered and destroyed as the ship broke apart.

And then the sun came out.

It wasn’t so much a renewed strength that flooded through him as a  _new_  strength, something that wasn’t Gawain’s. Where the sun touched him—where it cut through the water to touch him—where it lit up the water all around him like a halo—he was suddenly unstoppable. Though swimming against the current, though one armed, now he was finally making progress. Was he imagining this? Was it magic?

“ _Gawain_!” Gaheris cried in alarm, and Gawain looked back to see a sizable wave spraying over the bow of the ship. Gaheris was clutching their little brother and supporting the other children, but was stunned by their sudden speed.

Gawain dove under the water again, looking for mermaids (just in case, you know, he might want to chat them up or something), and surfaced, looking around for sorcerers, but he saw neither, and didn’t expect to. Even a magic boat wouldn’t explain this, because  _he_  felt changed,  _he_  felt stronger. But Gawain was nothing if not pragmatic, and definitely not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was something to be questioned later, when the babies and his brothers were safe.

There was a crowd on the beach now, knights shouting and ladies screaming, and he saw Uncle Arthur among them, and felt a little smug. Here he was being all heroic in front of everyone. Maybe the King would be so impressed with his bravery and strength that his uncle would knight him today—the youngest Knight of the Round Table! And Mum was there—how proud she’d be!

They were on the beach quickly. Gawain wasn’t even winded as he met the knights that waded out to help them in, and a few mothers who rushed in and collected their children.

But Gawain didn’t quite understand the rush of commotion on the beach. Everyone was talking and shouting at once and not everyone sounded pleased, and no one had yet mentioned Gawain’s heroic feat of strength. Mothers and nursemaids were sobbing and snatching up their children directly from the boat, alternating upset and confused—definitely not grateful, which was disappointing. Kay was there, trying to pry him away from his boat, away from his brothers, and Gawain, finally deciding he was fed up with the seneschal, shoved him—with a strength that surprised them both, and Kay ended up splashing backwards into the water.

The beach went silent for a moment, and now everyone was staring at Gawain, but not necessarily in a good way.

Then everyone was talking at once again—Mum snatched Mordred from Herry’s arms—Dad pulled the both of them to him, slinging his fine cloak around them, drying their hair—mothers seemed angry, and some of the nobles, too, grumbling angrily at Uncle Arthur—and Arthur was angry, too, but he also looked sad, or maybe scared—and then Mum wheeled on Uncle Arthur and slapped him hard across the face, and  _that_  caused a stir—

The only one who said anything to him at all was Merlin, who appeared suddenly behind Gawain and gave him the chills, saying only: “You should not have done that,” rather ominously.

In the end, Gawain was not knighted that day.

And he never really figured out what happened that day.

The closest he ever came to an answer was hearing Mum, Uncle Arthur, and Auntie M in secret conversation behind closed doors (okay so he might have been eavesdropping):

“You’d better just state it clearly this time, brother,” Auntie M said, sounding almost amused. “If you want me to get rid of your wizard I’m going to need a bit more of an indication than an idle wish. You never know, people might  _die_.”

“So? Kill him!” Mum said. “The bastard was trying to kill  _my_  child!”

“Now, Anna. He merely took our dear brother’s hasty words out of context. He hardly deserves death—”

“For attempted infanticide?!”

“I think no one in this room is sinless, sister.”

“How  _dare_  you—”

“Sisters, please!” Uncle Arthur said, loud but not angry. He seemed sad still. “Morgan. Please do not kill Merlin. I just want him out of the way.”

A pause. “I’ll lock him in a tower. He won’t be released until after your death.”

“Good. Thank you.” Now Uncle Arthur sounded tired.

Gawain also thought this was good. He didn’t much like Merlin. He was creepy. And, apparently, had tried to kill his baby brother! Gawain was still trying to work the rest of this out when suddenly the door sprang open and he fell back, looking up at his mother, King Arthur, and Morgan le Fay. Gawain didn’t think they really looked all that much like they were siblings unless you stood them all together with the same stern glares on their faces—then they looked an awful lot alike.

Mum was angry, perhaps about to shout at him, but Uncle Arthur scooped him up and put him on his feet. “Gawain,” he said, and knelt in front of him so they were eye to eye: “I did not yet thank you for today. What you did was very brave, and I am most proud. You will make the best of my knights someday,” and he still sounded sad and tired but he hugged Gawain, and Gawain hugged him back.

“If not your best, then your most loyal, uncle,” he whispered his vow, pressing a kiss to his beloved uncle’s cheek.

The King smiled, squeezed him once more, stood, and walked on.

Mum kissed his brow, combing russet tangles out of his face. “Everyone’s very proud of you, my son. You are a very good brother. But you still smell like seawater. Wash up before bed. I’m going to stay up with Mordred.”

“Yes, Mum. Is he sick, Mum?”

“No, darling, he’s all right. Just a bit damp. All the children are all right, thanks very much to you.” She smiled and kissed him once more before she and Uncle turned upstairs.

Auntie M was definitely not smiling.

She looked rather  _stern_ , in fact.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” Gawain volunteered guiltily.

Now she smiled.

Later that night, Gawain sat by the fire with a blanket round his shoulders, Herry sleeping on his knee, and Agravain curled up between them. “Auntie M?” he asked. “Am I in trouble? For today?”

“No,” she said simply.

“I mean—everyone seemed so mad. Why was everyone angry?”

“No one was angry with you, Gawain. It’s a delicate situation. Best not to talk about it.” Auntie M always told him the truth, even if he did not always understand it at the time, so,

“Okay,” he said. Then, “So since I saved Mordred, does that make me a hero?”

“Only knights can be heroes,” she said, somewhat bitterly.

“Oh. Well, I’ll be knight soon, uncle said so.” That wasn’t too terribly long to wait. Because Auntie M knew about these things, he also pressed: “I pulled that boat all the way to shore, against the current—and I shoved Sir Kay over, and he’s really big.” He tried shoving the empty armchair beside him, but could not budge it. “But now I can’t. I think it was magic. Do you know?”

“What do you think, Gawain?” Auntie M pressed.

Gawain frowned. He hated it when adults made him figure out answers to things they knew perfectly well.

“Well, it happened when the sun came out,” he said.

“And you felt weaker when the sky was clouded?” she pressed.

Gawain thought about this. “Well, just sort of normal me,” he said.

She nodded sagely. “Your strength increases with the sun, Gawain.” She did not look at him, but she reached out and touched his hair. She had red hair, too, like he and all his brothers (well, except Mordred). “A parting gift from the Old Gods, maybe. A powerful gift, not bestowed lightly.”

“You think it was so I could save my brothers and those other children?” Gawain ventured.

She smiled, but her smile was a bit grim. “Perhaps. No one can say.”

Gawain pondered this. Having magic super-strength sun powers sounded awesome. “Do you think it’s for always?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Gwaine flexed his arm experimentally, and laughed, swinging an imaginary sword at invisible foes. “I just hope all the good battles and jousts happen when the sun is high!”

Auntie M smiled and kissed his hair. “Indeed. You must remember to use your gift wisely. Defend the weak. Honor your family. Do you think you can do that?”

“Of course, Auntie!” Gawain exclaimed. What other point  _was_  there to being a knight, to being nephew of the king, to having magic super-strength sun powers?

“Good,” she said. “But you have had a big day and now, off to bed with you.”

Gawain pouted, but Auntie M was scary when crossed, so he poked the sleeping figure on his knee. “Hey, Herry, let’s go to bed. Come on, up—” Gaheris grumbled but Gawain was able to haul him upright, though Agravain did not stir. “Oof,” Gawain groaned, pulling Aggy over his shoulders to carry him to bed. “Night, Auntie M. Happy May Day.”

“Happy May Day, Gawain.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Beta-read by Effervescent Aardvark and Caitydid.


End file.
